


forlorn but not forgotten

by smudgythoughts



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Coda, Episode: s07e02 Stormborn, F/F, I love my canon bisexual children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11657220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smudgythoughts/pseuds/smudgythoughts
Summary: Dany paused, her eyes frozen on the map. Because she could not look up, see the sincerity in Tyrion's eyes, face thetruth. “They are all dead?”





	forlorn but not forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick thing before the episode tonight.

Daenerys stood in the strategy room, running her fingers over the fine lines of the map of Westeros, her _home_. However, that word still did not seem to quite fit.

When Daenerys took that first step onto the beach of Westeros, and entered the olden gates of Dragonstone, she was exhilarated. Her plan was finally coming to fruition. But that feeling soon dissipated, replaced by the sense that she did not _belong_. Dragonstone was too cold, too empty. She ignored the part of her brain that said she only felt that way because Daario, Jorah, and Yara had left her side.

She would feel at home after she had conquered Westeros and taken her seat on the Iron Throne. At least, that was what she tried to convince herself, late at night, lying awake and staring at the ceiling because she was unable to sleep.

Dany heard the familiar sound of light footsteps, but did not turn around. She glanced over at Tyrion. He stood rigidly a foot away, silent and dare she say brooding. His light hair was a curly mess atop his head, beard unshaven; the look of a main who had not slept for days.

“Well, what is it?” She asked. “You should not be afraid to say anything to me - I mean to inspire _love_ , not fear.”

“There, uh, may have been a minor wrong calculation in our military plan,” he began nervously, gaze flickering away, unable to meet hers.

“How minor?” Dany asked, fingers tracing over the neat lines of the river leading to King’s Landing.

"Well," Tyrion said, "we may have underestimated Euron Greyjoy, specifically, his ambition, and desire for a woman with a nice pair of tits. And I don't me you, my queen.”

Daenerys stared at him, her attention finally grabbed. “What happened!” She demanded, voice more small, more _weak_ , than she would have liked.

“He destroyed our entire fleet. Most of our Dornish and Ironborn are dead,” Tyrion replied. “It seems that he’s joined up with my dear sister.”

Dany paused, her eyes frozen on the map. Because she could not look up, see the sincerity in Tyrion's eyes, face the _truth_. “They are all dead?”

“Yes, my queen.”

“Even Yara?” She asked, voice small. But this time, she did not care how weak she sounded.

“Yes, my queen,” he said in the same tone as before.

Daenerys did not reply, too busy sorting through her memories.

A flirtatious smile, the strong grip of an arm on hers, a promise of bringing on a new era _together_. A long ship ride across the sea. Daenerys feeling queasy, not used to being on a ship, and Yara and her sharing a bottle of wine to quench her anxiety. The wine working a bit too well, and Yara was sitting there, looking absolutely beautiful in the moonlight.

Daenerys reaching forward and lightly brushing her lips against Yara’s, the other woman fluidly sliding into her lap. The hot press of Yara’s lips trailing down Daenerys’ neck. Quickly shedding their clothes until it was skin on skin, an constant fire low in her belly, the dragon awoken.

Daenerys had not done something for herself in so long, so she thought she could allow herself this. But apparently not. Because Yara was gone, just like everyone she had ever cared about. Maybe Daenerys was not meant to love. She was only meant to _conquer_.

“Daenerys? Daenerys?” Tyrion said, and she realized he had been saying her name several times. “What should we do next?”

She recalled Olenna Tyrell’s earlier conversation, and lifted her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. “I am dragon, not a sheep. I will head straight for King’s Landing and reclaim my rightful place as queen. Consequences be damned.”


End file.
